


Our Ultimatum

by Lvsbby



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Boba's a big softie to the reader, F/M, Fennec is the best wing-woman, Implied Age Gap, Mentions of Slavery, Smut, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, boba flirts the entire time, but he fucks mean and he isn't gonna let you forget that, but nothing weird!, future smut!, gratuitous use of the phrase 'little one'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28228005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lvsbby/pseuds/Lvsbby
Summary: Finding yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place, you take a gamble and seek the mercy of the new ruler of Tatooine.Also titled: How many times can I get Boba to say "little one"?
Relationships: Boba Fett & Reader, Boba Fett x Reader
Comments: 45
Kudos: 401





	1. Charity

Things couldn’t get much worse.

Life had never been easy on Tatooine. With the harsh weather, the hellish wildlife, and the abundance of seedy criminals there wasn’t too much to celebrate on the planet that you had grown up on. You’d always been conscious of the risk of poverty, on this desert world it seemed almost everyone was working off their last credits and thankfully you’d always managed to make yours stretch. 

That was until a few cycles, ago when things had taken a turn for the worst. 

You see, though the rebellion had brought with it many prosperous outcomes, like the end of the Empire and a half-decent attempt at eradicating slavery, it had also caused a few problems. Tatooine, being the hub of criminal activity that it was had faced a rather thorough clean-up, and the New Republic had pretty much scared away the local bounty hunters guild, taking with it most of the planets custom. Since then raiders seemed to pillage every town on a near weekly basis, leaving you and many others penniless and desperate.

You’d just managed to scrape by, but since losing your job and being evicted from your sorry excuse for a home you’d been faced with a tough decision. One that had lead you on this perilous trek through the desert.  
With just the clothes on your back and a small satchel of your few personal belongings, you were headed to Jabba’s Palace, or at least the palace that had once belonged to Jabba the Hutt. Since the death of the Huttese criminal overlord, the Palace had changed hands many times, most recently into the possession of a notorious bounty hunter with a growing monopoly on the criminal underworld. You didn’t know much about this new leader, other than the fact he ran a tight ship, but sadly he might be your only hope.

You’d heard stories of destitute citizens like yourself travelling the Dune Sea to offer their services to the Hutts, a life of slavery in exchange for a roof overhead and a meal every-day. Much more than what most could expect living free. You could only hope that this new leader would be open to the same sort of offers. You’d never thought you’d end up in this situation, but the universe works in mysterious ways.  
The palace was a great, monstrous thing towering high above the rocks and dunes surrounding it. You’d once heard it had as many floors underground as it did above, even containing its own exotic animal menagerie. Perhaps you’d soon find out for yourself if that were true. 

“What business do you have here?” an armoured guard called out as you approached the doorway to the palace’s main tower. 

Adjusting your grip on your satchel, you try to regulate your breathing. 

“I’ve come to see Boba Fett,” you announce in what you hope is a determined tone.

The guard seems unconvinced, turning to his partner and laughing beneath his leather helmet. Suddenly you feel very small, and painfully aware of how pitiful you must look right now.

“He’s a busy man,” The guard says, turning back to you “He doesn’t have time to talk to kids like you”

“If I had any other choice, I wouldn’t be here. I’ve come here to offer my services” You snap back, angered by his patronising tone. 

The guard bristles, incensed by your little outburst. He shifts his weight and raises his blaster slightly, just enough for you to feel the threat there, but before he can respond his partner interjects. 

“Look, sweetheart, this isn’t the place for you. Go back to town and don’t worry yourself with what goes on in here. It’s grizzly business.”

He’s right. You can feel how out of place you are, but right now that just isn’t an option for you. The only thing waiting for you back in Mos Eisley is an empty stomach, your only shot at a future is behind those big metal doors.  
Slowly you reach for your pocket, bringing out your last fistful of credits and holding them out in front of you. It’s laughable really, barely enough to buy a bottle of Spotchka and yet it’s all you’ve got to bribe your way in. 

“This is all I have left. You can have it if you let me inside” 

The guards stare at the pile of credits for a moment, before the first one reaches forward and takes the whole lot. 

“Fine. If you’re so sure it’s what you want” he snaps, motioning for his other (and arguably nicer) partner to let you in. 

The guard opens a small door behind him, ushering you through ahead of him. You try to ignore the look of pity he gives you as you step past him. 

You emerge into a large, cavernous hall dimly lit with warm lights that hang suspended from wires of various lengths from the ceiling. Distantly you can hear the sound of many people talking and laughing, perhaps some music too. In the centre of the room, a wide descending staircase leads to the lower levels, curving off to the left and into the darkness. It sounds like that’s where all the noise is coming from.

The guard nudges your shoulder softly, gesturing towards the stairs. 

You descend into what might be the busiest, loudest room you’ve ever been in. Filled with all sorts of species conversing loudly in groups all over the room, underscored by music that emanates from somewhere you can’t see. It’s dimly lit with a low ceiling that makes it feel like the room is about to collapse in on you, and the gravity of your situation slowly starts to dawn on you. 

The guards were right, this Boba Fett really is busy, and you know you don’t belong here. 

“He’s up there. Say what you need to say and try not to get me into trouble” the guard says, before stepping back against the wall and out of sight. 

You look to where he had pointed, and instantly your blood runs cold. At the back of the room, sat on a raised dais and surrounded by the fiercest looking soldiers you’ve ever seen is the man you’ve come here for. He sits sprawled across a large stone chair- no, throne in his green Mandalorian armour that seems almost black in the low light. He has his face turned towards a woman beside him, her dark hair plaited tightly on her head as she nods along to what he says. 

As though she has felt your stare she looks up. Saying something you can’t quite make out, she refocuses the armoured mans attention to you, and now, even from the other side of the room you burn something fierce under their combined gaze. 

Boba Fett readjusts himself on the throne, spreading his legs just a fraction wider in a way that is both devastatingly inviting and frighteningly dangerous. He tilts his head, and you take this as your cue to step forward, weaving through the crowd until you reach the space before the dais. 

“Are you lost, little one?” 

Oh dear.

His voice rings out clear despite the noise around you. His pitch is low and measured, and pierces right into you. For a moment he’s rendered you useless, until you remember he asked you a question. 

“No,” you respond in a voice you hope is as clear as his. 

He huffs out an amused laugh and tilts his helmet. A few of the soldiers that surround him have turned their attention to your conversation as well.

“Forgive me. It’s not very often I get to see pretty things like you down here. As you can see I move in very specific circles” He gestures with his fingers, and you follow where he points. 

Not that you needed to. You’ve been well aware from the minute you set foot down here that you don’t blend in with the numerous bounty hunters and criminals that fill the palace. 

“But it seems you’ve come here with a purpose. What can I help you with?” Boba says, leaning forward slightly. 

Right, you’ve practiced this. You had plenty of time whilst walking the desert to plan what you were going to say, and now as you face Boba Fett in all his imposing majesty, you’re infinitely glad you did. You probably couldn’t voice an original thought right now even if you tried, not with the nerves coursing through you under Boba’s unwavering gaze. You take a slight breath, ready to begin your well-rehearsed spiel.

“I have nothing. No money, no food. I’ve heard the stories about the people who came here looking to work in exchange for shelter- “

“You mean the slaves?” The dark-haired woman interrupts, throwing you off your rhythm and forcing the words to die on your tongue.

“Well… yes” you say, barely above a whisper. 

“How dare you?” Hisses a zabrak bounty hunter that’s been lurking beside the throne “comparing our actions to that of the Hutts?” 

The zabrak jumps down from the raised stone plinth, stalking towards you and causing you to shrink away. You’ve barely opened your mouth and already you’ve managed to ruin things. Honestly, you wish the ground would swallow you up. 

“That’s enough, I’ve taken no offence” Boba warns, and the zabrak eases off slightly “but you should know we don’t do that here. Strangely enough there is some semblance of morality among us”

“I’m sorry” you offer lamely, hoping to repair some of the damage done in this conversation. 

Boba studies you from beneath his visor for a moment, before offering out his hand to you. 

“Come here” he asks, and not wanting to cause any more offence, you comply 

Tentatively you step forward, eyeing the leering zabrak cautiously before taking Boba’s hand. Your hand fits neatly into the leather of his gloved palm, and he easily helps you up onto the dais to stand directly before him. Boba inspects your face again.

“You look tired, little one. Did you walk across the Dune Sea?” You faintly notice he hasn’t released your hand yet, still clasping it gently in his. You nod, not trusting your words just yet. Boba makes a quiet sound of sympathy that makes your heart flutter, much to your horror.

“And where did you walk from? Where’s home to you?”

His voice has dropped so it’s barely a whisper, a conversation just for the two of you alone. 

“I don’t have a home.”

Boba doesn’t respond right away, instead reaching up to thumb the threadbare and sandy material of your tunic. He does so for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts before snapping his head up to face you.

“You must be tired. Follow my friend here, she’ll take you somewhere you can rest,” Boba points to the dark-haired woman beside him “Her name is Fennec.”

Shocked by his response, you can only babble out a strangled little “thank you” before Fennec promptly takes you by the arm and starts leading you away. As she ushers you into the crowd again, you turn one last time to meet Boba’s visor. He gives you a nod before you disappear into a hallway. 

“I’ll admit you’ve got courage coming all the way here” Fennec says as she leads you along “most people choose come by speeder, the Dune Sea is a dangerous place” 

“Well, I didn’t have many other options” you say, taking in the hallways you pass through, trying to commit them to memory.

“So it seems,” she responds, before turning to face you.

“You know if you really want to work for us we could probably sort something out. We can try and find you a job that’s safe and out of the way”

You’ve stopped outside a door, and the woman quickly presses a few buttons on the keypad to open it. Inside you catch a glimpse of a room, its fairly plain but still much nicer than anything you’ve ever had before. The bed looks divine, and you can’t wait to burrow under the covers and rest. 

“I’d like that” you respond with a grateful smile; glad your little insult earlier hadn’t ruined all your chances here. 

“I’ll see what I can do. There’s a refresher in there. You should wash, and I’ll find you something clean to wear. Rest as long as you need.”

Thanking Fennec you head inside, dropping your bag at the foot of the bed and reaching out to feel the sheets. They’re soft to the touch, but the sand that coats your body in a fine layer falls onto it, ruining the silky texture. Stepping back you begin to strip from your clothes, unwinding the binding that seals the cuffs of your sleeves and trousers. They’re supposed to keep the sand from getting under your clothes and irritating your skin, but in their threadbare condition the bindings haven’t done their job. When you shake out your trousers, half of the Dune Sea seems to fall out of them. 

The shower amazes you. It’s a decent size with strong water pressure and it takes you a few moments to figure out how to change the temperature. You take your time under the water, enjoying how relaxing it is compared to the sonic showers you had used your whole life. When you’re sure you’ve washed away all the sand on your body, you wrap yourself in one of the soft towels and pad back to the main bedroom. 

Someone had left a set of new clothes for you on the bed, a simple grey tunic and loose-fitting trousers, socks, underwear, and over by the door a soft looking pair of shoes. As you change you vaguely register your growing hunger but thinking of the soft sheets and just how tired you are, you decide that’s something you’ll fix after your nap. 

As you lie under the covers in silence, you can just about make out the distant sound of chatter from the throne room. If you concentrate hard enough, you think you can hear Boba, his voice cutting through the noise as he calls out words you can’t make out. 

It’s plaguing your thoughts. The kindness he showed you and the feel of his hand holding yours. The way his gaze pierced you even from behind his dark visor. This bounty hunter king was not at all what you expected him to be, but funnily enough you weren’t too mad about that. 

-

You wake to a series of short knocks to the door. 

“Hello?” you call out blearily, trying to regain your senses as you switch on the bedside lamp.

The door slides open to reveal Fennec. She steps inside, leaving the guard she brought with her in the hall and smiles at your groggy state.

“Seems you slept well” she quips.

“Yes, thank you,” you say, reaching up self-consciously to fix your hair.

“Boba wants to talk. Get yourself ready and follow the guard, he’ll take you to him” Fennec says.

The prospect of speaking to Boba again sent your mind into a frenzy. Your brief conversation earlier had left you dumbstruck, his measured tone and focused interest in you effecting your brain in an almost embarrassing way. How were you supposed to pull yourself through an entire discussion with him?

Fennec leaves you to get ready. You do your best to calm your hair, splash some water on your face, and slip on your new shoes, and as the guard leads you through the palace hallways, you work on trying to steady your nerves. 

The room you’re led to is empty. It has the same stone walls and floors as the rest of the palace, and windows in the ceiling illuminate the sizeable stone table that sits at its centre. The table is set for one, with a decent amount of food and a large bottle of spotchka. You’re quickly reminded of your hunger but don’t dare take even the smallest piece of food without permission. 

“You gonna eat that food or just stare at it little one?”

Boba’s voice makes you jump. Spinning around you see him standing in the doorway, hands resting on his belt as he watches you. You can’t quite manage to make your mouth work, and in the absence of a response Boba steps forward, walking past you to take a seat at the table. 

“Come on then.” He points to the chair in front of the plate of food. 

He doesn’t need to offer again. Even if Boba has rendered your brain useless, your stomach is still fully aware of its need for food, and you waste no time getting stuck into the meal offered to you. Boba chuckles softly at the speed at which you eat.

“Spotchka?” He lifts the bottle of glowing blue liquid.

With your mouth full, you shake your head. Boba nods and pours himself a glass instead. 

You’re so preoccupied with your food that you nearly miss when the bounty hunter lowers his head and removes his helmet to drink. Suddenly your food is a lot less interesting, now your undivided attention belongs to the face of the man opposite you. 

He’s older than you, that was no surprise, and handsome too in a hardened, grizzly way. The scars, however, that wrap around his handsome face have certainly piqued your interest. Of course it makes sense for a bounty hunter to have a few scars, but scars of that severity must have a particular story behind them.

“I’m not the nicest to look at, am I?” Boba quips without looking up at you. His tone is light, thankfully not offended by your staring.

“No!” You say, before you can stop yourself “Wait no…I mean… I think you’re very nice to look at” 

Wow, how eloquent. 

Boba seems to find your flustered state very amusing, laughing lowly as he looks at you over the rim of his glass. 

“Well thank you, and I’ll be sure to thank the sarlacc for not maiming all of my face”

A sarlacc? Well that certainly explains the scarring, but how could anyone survive a sarlacc pit? It seems that the more you learn about this bounty hunter king, the more questions you’re faced with. Your face must give away your thoughts, as just when you open your mouth to question him he pipes up again.

“You’re an open book little one, I’ll tell you about it some other time. Now though, I want to talk about you” He says, placing down his spotchka.

You tell him nearly all of your life story, from your name to your rather precarious financial situation and Boba listens diligently despite your babbling. By the time you’ve finished explaining to him the decision you had made to come to the palace, Boba has sat back in his chair, studying you.

“I can’t thank you enough for your hospitality so far, its far more than I deserve after the way I spoke to you earlier,” You conclude, but Boba wave his hand in dismissal.

“It’s hardly an issue, your courage and honesty endeared me to you” he says, “but I want to do one thing more for you,”

“Yes?” you prompt softly.

“I’m going to take you up on your offer. I’ll give you work, and you can stay here at the palace, but I will be paying you a salary.” He lets the offer hang in the air. You’re too shocked to respond, this is much more than you thought you’d be given. 

“You’d be free to leave our employment at any time, and you can stay in the palace for as little or as long as you want. I want you to understand you won’t be a slave here, you’ll always have your own autonomy,” He elaborates.

This is certainly not what you expected from such a hardened figure. It seemed almost comical for the leader of the criminal underworld to be offering you, a nobody, this level of charity. It baffled you. 

“I- thank you,” you respond, mouth numb with shock and unable to fully articulate yourself.

Boba downs the last of his spotchka before fixing his helmet and rising.

“You’re very welcome. Finish your food, little one. We’ll find you some work in the morning.” Boba turns to exit, leaving you alone at the table with your mind running a mile a minute to process your new situation. Jumping up from your chair, you go to stop him before he leaves.

“Wait,” you say, reaching out to grab his arm. He turns back to face you quickly, and for a moment you worry that you’ve overstepped a boundary by laying hands on him. When the scolding you’re anticipating doesn’t come, you continue.

“I don’t understand, why help me like this?” 

Boba cocks his head.

“Why would I not?” He says simply.

“You could have just accepted my original proposition or sent me away.” 

“Do you want me to send you away?” Boba quips. Leaning towards you, you can almost hear his teasing grin behind his visor.

“No,” you respond.

“So why would I do that? Must a man always have a reason for his ways?” He reaches out to smooth the collar of your tunic, letting his fingers skim across your collar bone. 

For some reason you’re not entirely convinced by his answer, but the feeling of his touch does a remarkable job at diverting your attention. His fingers follow the tunic’s neckline, stopping when he reaches the lowest point of the shallow v neck. He lingers there for a second before raising his hand to tap your chin with the back of his curled forefinger and let out an amused little huff at your dumbstruck expression. 

“I’ll see you soon, little one.”


	2. Metal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you settle into your new job at the palace, Boba's interest in you only grows.

You were pleasantly surprised how peaceful the palace could be.

When you had arrived you assumed the halls of the palace would be teeming with the same criminals that filled the throne room, but to your surprise it was fairly empty. Perhaps it was because of the area of the palace you worked in, Fennec had promised you work that was out of the way of the action and she really had delivered.

Your current job revolved around inventory. Since the palace had unexpectedly changed hands, Boba and his cohort hadn’t been able to fully document the weapons left by Bib Fortuna and so you found yourself taking records in the armoury most of the time. You started the job unable to tell apart a sporting blaster from a stingbeam, but now three weeks in you could identify even the most exotic weapons with ease.

You rarely saw anyone whilst you worked, with the armoury being off-limits to nearly everyone except yourself and Raab Bynes, who oversaw you whilst you worked. Raab was a hardened figure, at first not keen on talking much, but by now you’re pretty sure he’s warmed to you. He was a much older man, a retired bounty hunter that had worked with Boba Fett many years ago. Apparently the two were still on good terms, as he would frequently go for drinks with his old hunting partner or sit beside his throne on the dais and talk.

You yourself hadn’t spoken to Boba since your dinner a few weeks ago. It’s not that he was ignoring you. If he passed you in the hallway he would always give you a nod in greeting, but when he was always flanked by a team of warriors it seemed imprudent to attempt a conversation with him. On some very scarce occasions he would pass by with his helmet off and tucked under his arm. In these instances he would smile lowly at you, his dark eyes flashing with something you couldn’t quite pin.

He was a busy man, and now you were a busy woman too. Your respective roles in the palace kept you far apart, and strangely enough you started to mourn that. Part of you yearned to feel his gentle touch again or hear the way his rough voice sounded when he called you one of his many pet names.

“Bring me that data pad would you” Raab snaps you out of your reverie, he’s digging through a set of large crates and gesturing with one hand for the data pad.

You snatch it up, walking over to hand it to him, shaking all thoughts of Boba from your mind. It was a silly infatuation, one that you needed to quit before it was too late.

“Here,” you hand over the data pad and watch as Raab uses it to scan the contents of the box “what is it?”

“I’m not quite sure,” he says, running a hand over his grey hair “some sort of blaster canon. Not one that I recognise though”

Curious, you lean forward to inspect the canon yourself. It’s nestled in a foam casing with a set of protective gauntlets next to it, a sleek silver cylinder unlike anything that you’ve come across so far. It looks much too sophisticated to be here amongst all the slightly dated weaponry you’ve been working with.

“What does the system say?” you ask.

“Well that’s just the problem. It doesn’t say anything” Raab frowns “There’s no information on any weapon like this.”

He puts down the data pad and reaches into the box to inspect the canon closer, rotating it a few times to see the sleek control switches on its body.

“I’m going to speak to Boba about this, see what he wants to do with it. Take a break, I’ll come find you when I’m done.” Raab closes the crate’s lid, taking the data pad in his hand.

“Sure” You say as your colleague gives you a parting pat on the shoulder and disappears between the many stacks of crates.

Now left alone in the armoury, you turn back to the crate. Part of you is tempted to open it up again to see the strange canon again, but you’re far too worried you might get in trouble. Raab seemed cautious of it, and that coming from a man with such an extensive knowledge of weapons made you wary. You chose instead to leave it be and leave the armoury for a change of scenery.

* * *

Walking through the halls of one of the palace’s secondary towers you gaze out the windows to the Dune Sea, enjoying the warm breeze that brushes your face. You feel as though if you just looked hard enough you’d be able to see your old home of Mos Eisley on the horizon beyond the sand dunes. You’d been back there a few times since moving to the palace, going to some of the shops to spend your new money. Recently you’d been indulgent, buying little silly things you had never had the want nor means for in the past. A few simple pieces of jewellery and a long linen dress were amongst your favourite new purchases, and even though Raab had recently suggested you start saving for a home of your own, you really couldn’t find it in you to care. You were comfortable living in the palace, at least for now.

Growing bored of roaming the quieter halls you decided instead to seek out your new famous pastime. At first you had avoided the throne room like the plague, terrified of the type of people that socialised there. In the last week however, you had found a secluded spot at the back of the room to sit and people watch. You enjoyed being able to overhear the sketchy business deals and bets exchanged between the people that Boba entertained.

Making your way to the throne room, the peaceful hallways grew ever louder and busier. Slipping along the back wall you found the darkened booth at the end of the room. Each booth had a lamp attached to the table, in yours however the lamp was broken allowing you to fade into the darkness and remain undisturbed. As you settled into your seat you turned to survey your surroundings.

Despite being the usual crowd, it seemed slightly quieter. The figures in the room seemed on edge, every so often people would turn and face the empty throne, waiting for the return of its usual inhabitant.

A few members of Boba’s cohort sat were sat at the dais, notably the zabrak from your arrival. He sat on the edge of the platform, a large, curved vibroblade lay on his lap which he polished slowly. You had learnt his name was Yovu, a minor crime lord who had once run a sizeable spice running industry before joining forces with Boba. It wasn’t just you he had a short temper with, it was common occurrence to see the young zabrak threaten the guests of the palace. He was arrogant and rude, everything Boba Fett was not.

As if on cue the crowd on the far side of the room part to allow Boba Fett to pass through. He’s flanked by Fennec and Raab and you assume they’ve just finished talking about the mystery weapon. They seem in good spirits; Boba takes his seat on the throne whilst Fennec produces a bottle of spotchka for herself and Raab. The trio speak quietly amongst themselves for a few minutes, and you sense your break will soon be coming to a close, watching as Raab finishes his drink.

He spots you, pointing you out to Fennec before saying what you assume are his goodbyes. Raab descends the steps of the dais and you raise to meet him, watching him weave through the crowd to meet you.

“What did they say about the blaster canon?” You ask, curious to see if Boba and Fennec knew anything about it.

“Unfortunately not much. Boba wants to see it himself sometime, but it’s not a priority right now,” Raab looks back at the throne “It’s getting late, take the rest of the day off. We’ll start again tomorrow.”

“Thanks” You say. Raab gives you a farewell pat to the shoulder before taking his leave.

Now that you’re standing away from the dark of your booth you’re fully exposed to the eyes of anyone who wants to look at you. Tentatively you risk a glance at Boba. He’s slumped low into the throne and fiddling with the blaster in his hands. He stills when he catches your eye behind the visor, jerking his head back to urge you to come to him and holstering his weapon.

Your heart pounds within your chest at his acknowledgement and you barely think twice about crossing the room to him. So much for controlling that infatuation with him.

You come to stop in front of the dais, but Boba beckons you closer.

“Come up here little one, let us talk like friends” He says and cautiously you obey, raising the skirt of your dress to climb the stone steps and stand before the throne.

You lamely offer Boba’s visor a smile and hope that it disguises the sudden onslaught of nerves affecting you. His gaze is unwavering, and you only break it when Fennec offers you a small glass of spotchka. You accept, happy to have something to do with your fidgety hands.

“This is nice,” Boba says, reaching up and using the back of his forefinger to glide over the fabric of your dress just above your knee “Is it new?”

The action nearly causes your legs to give out under you. His touch is entirely innocent in its intention, moving up and down on your leg only an inch above your knee at most, yet the impact it has on you is devastating.

“Yes, I bought it last week.” You’re surprised you managed to get any words out at all.

“It suits you,” he says, his gruff voice sounding warm and sincere.

You’re about to respond, but the words die in your throat when Boba’s gentle stroking inches higher on your leg. You clear your throat and try to ignore the way his touch makes your thigh tremble. Boba’s attitude doesn’t change, acting as if he’s unaware of how flustered he’s got you. You manage to squeak out a pathetic little thank you.

“You seem to have settled well. Raab Bynes certainly thinks you’re doing well at your job” Boba says.

“Only thanks to him. I barely knew a thing about blasters before coming here, now I feel like I know everything” You manage through a small laugh.

Fennec laughs too and your cheeks burn when you realise she must have noticed Boba’s touch on your thigh, possibly also the way you’re subtly leaning into it. Despite your embarrassment you cant bare to pull yourself away.

“Have you ever shot a blaster before?” She asks.

“A couple of times, but I wasn’t very good at it,” You admit.

Boba hums, stopping his stroking and instead holding the outside of your thigh. His thumb draws little circles on your now hyper-sensitive flesh.

“Fennec could teach you,” Boba suggests.

“Or Boba could. His aim’s been getting worse lately, you could both use the practice” Fennec quips back with a smile.

You laugh quietly with her, stopping when Boba gives your thigh a warning squeeze.

“Would you want that little one?” He asks.

Before you can respond however, Yovu the zabrak interrupts.

“You had better be bringing me good news” He snaps, pointing his long vibroblade at two mercenaries that have approached the dais.

Boba’s other hand takes your hip, guiding you over towards Fennec so he can face the new arrivals. Fennec offers you a small wooden stool beside the throne and you sit, sipping your spotchka and watching the scene play out. Yovu jumps down from his seat on the edge of the raised platform and stalks towards the two men.

“Did you reach Jagba?” the zabrak questions “and what happened to the rest of your team?”

“We arrived at the planet fine sir, but the Kostah brothers turned on us” one of the mercenaries responds.

You feel very lost, much of the palace’s business is still foreign to you but you try to listen anyways.

“So you _didn’t_ negotiate a deal with them” Yovu snarls.

“No, sir.” the mercenary confesses “They claimed to be insulted that you did not send someone of importance to speak with them. They killed most of us, and let us go to send their message”

“I’ll go,” Boba says with resolution “we can’t afford for these negotiations to keep dragging on like this.”

Yovu turns from the mercenaries to face Boba.

“Fett, with all due respect,” He says, in a tone not at all respectful “the Kostah deal was _my_ mission. They’re spice runners too and so I should be the one to go”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on the matter. I don’t want another let down; I’m doing to close this deal myself” Boba snaps. _This_ is the Boba Fett you had heard rumours about. The bounty hunter of legends who ruled his criminal empire with a beskar fist, not the man who called you ‘little one’ and touched you like you were the most delicate thing.

“I’ll need you with me, gather what you need. We leave in the next few days,” Boba states to Fennec. She nods, downing the rest of her drink and stepping away from the throne.

“I’m sorry, meshla. We’ll finish our conversation some other time” Boba says to you, in a tone notably softer than the way he had spoken to everyone else. He rises from the throne and descends from the raised platform.

You supposed you shouldn’t be too upset he was leaving you; you’d barely spoken much before so you could hardly expect him to abandon this apparently important business for some silly conversation. Despite how much you told yourself this, you couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that his hands weren’t on your flesh anymore.

Rising from the throne he tells the mercenaries to follow him, wanting to further discuss the events of their recent trip. He passes through the crowd of the throne room, all swathes of black fabric and green beskar. You watch Boba pass into a corridor, keeping your vision trained on him until its not physically possible to do so anymore.

Now that Boba has gone you notice that Fennec too has slipped away, leaving you alone on the dais to feel horrifically out of place and still deeply flustered. Your palm rubs up and down the expanse of thigh that Boba had been toying with in a vague attempt at calming the nerves there that still sing for his touch.

“Do you still have a reason to be up there?” Yovu spits lowly at you from his spot before the dais. Trapped in the fiery gaze of the scolded zabrak, your voice fails.

“Well? Do you?”

Sensing that you’ve outstayed your welcome in the spot beside Boba’s throne, you take this as your cue to leave. Standing up, you slink away and retreat to your room, hoping you don’t have to see Yovu again for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your lovely comments on the last chapter, and Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate it!  
> Come find me on my tumblr @lavendersb, I'm always down to chat about my favourite beskar boys!


	3. Sandstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boba's business in the palace piques your interest.

That night you struggled to sleep.

After the incident in the throne room you had eaten with Raab in the communal dining hall, where he had explained that you would need to work without him for a few days. He had been asked by Boba and Fennec to help them prepare for their journey to Jagba, and this took priority over the weapons log. You were flattered that Raab thought you capable enough to run the armoury by yourself, but you couldn’t help but ask the questions that the day had left you with.

“What actually is the Kostah deal?” you had asked tentatively, hoping you hadn’t overstepped.

“It’s a deal with the Kostah brothers,” Raab responded flatly.

“I gathered that, but why’s it so important?”

Raab finally looked up from his plate of food. He sent you an unimpressed look before sitting up in his chair and letting out a steady sigh.

“The Kostah brothers dominate the spice trade in the outer rim-” He relented “it’s been their industry for years. We’ve been able to co-exist with them for a while now, but recently they’ve gotten… ballsy”

“Ballsy how?”

“They’ve been aggravating certain crime syndicates, being lenient with others. Boba thinks they’re trying to generate allies so they can overthrow him,” Raab explained.

“But then why would he want to form a deal with them, if he thinks they’re plotting against him?” You leant across the table to talk, not wanting anyone else to overhear what you assumed was sensitive information.

“You sure do like your questions, huh?” Raab huffed “Well what is it they say… keep your friends close and your enemies closer? That’s all it is. Don’t worry yourself about it”

You had sat back up, sensing that was all you were going to get from Raab for now and chose instead to mull over your food.

Now you lay in your bed sleeplessly whilst trying to process the events of the day. You were still interested in the Kostah deal, what Raab had told you so far was enough to fuel your interest in the business of Boba’s empire.

You flip the pillow to the cold side and pull your blankets higher, trying for the umpteenth time to get comfortable enough to sleep. You wanted to be well rested tomorrow, keen to make sure you did your best on your first day working alone.

* * *

You woke up late the next morning.

Frantically you had leapt out of your bed, swearing and berating yourself as you dressed in a hurry. You couldn’t remember when you had eventually drifted off, but considering how groggy you still felt, you assumed it was much later than you had intended.

You didn’t have time to run to the dining hall, instead you grabbed a few stray ration packs you had lying around your room and promptly exited for the armoury. You hoped desperately that you wouldn’t bump into Raab before you arrived, not wanting him to think you were rushing.

The journey to the armoury didn’t take long. Rounding one last corner you come to the brassy metal doors of your workplace. You stop when you reach it, sighing and silently thanking the maker that you got here in good time.

Just as soon as your heart rate starts to settle, it suddenly spikes again. You notice the keypad, usually when you arrive the light above it is red, indicating the doors are sealed. Now, however, the light is gleaming green. The doors are unlocked.

You feel yourself begin to panic, perhaps Raab had decided to swing by before he leaves you alone for the day? Somehow you’re not convinced, Raab wasn’t one to baby you, he had given you a job and hadn’t told you to expect him, besides, he was busy helping Boba and Fennec prepare for their journey.

You quietly slipped through the door, not wanting to alert any potential intruder until you found out who they were. As you emerge into the large maze of weapon crates stacked high you wonder if you should go and find help.

You still. Somewhere in the armoury you could hear movement, the sound of somebody pushing the crates and boxes around. Your heart rate spiked; There was no way it could be Raab, but who else could have gained access?

You weren’t entirely sure what to do. Raab had assured you that nobody was allowed into the armoury without his permission, and he certainly would have told you if you should be expecting somebody whilst he was gone. Instinctively you reach for one of the smaller cases, as quietly as you could you flicked it open and pulled out the simple blaster it housed.

Feeling somewhat better protected, you continue to weave your way through the stacks of crates, getting closer to the source of the noises. As you round a corner you come upon the back of a person. They’re hunched over a crate, rummaging through it’s contents.

“Hey!” You snap, raising your blaster. The figure stilled but didn’t turn to face you.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” you add, hoping to get more of a response.

The figure straightens up and you adjust your grip on the blaster rifle, keeping it trained on their back. You hope desperately that you won’t have to use it. Even at this close proximity you don’t have much faith that you’ll hit your target.

“You should watch your tongue when you speak to me.” The intruder turns to face you. It’s Yovu, the temperamental zabrak from Boba’s clique and despite the fact he’s a familiar face, you don’t feel at all comforted by his presence.

“You don’t have permission to be in here,” you insist, refusing to acknowledge his comment to you “I think you should leave”

Yovu curls his lip at you, pushing himself away from the crate and stalking slowly towards you.

“I’d be careful with that blaster _little one_ ,” he mocks “you might hurt yourself”

You bristle at that. From Boba that pet name feels like a gentle caress, both soothing and exciting your soul in the same way his gentle touch does, however from Yovu it’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever been called. You elect to ignore his comment, you will not be threatened in your own workplace, especially not on your first day working alone.

“I said you need to leave. Now” you say, in what you hope is a decently assertive tone.

Yovu just scoffs at you. He continues to walk towards you, stopping briefly when his chest hits the barrel of your blaster before stepping closer to you, pushing the weapon towards your body.

“Boba may have picked you to be his little plaything, but that doesn’t make you special kid. You’re nothing, and you don’t get to make demands of people like me” He’s gotten so close to you that you can see every scar and line on his leathery, orange face. You refuse to back down despite the nerves you feel, instead you opt for pressing the blaster harder against his chest in warning.

As soon as he feels the pressure Yovu’s hand snaps up, grabbing roughly onto your upper arm and yanking you viciously. You cry out instinctively as pain erupts through your arm, crumpling slightly into his grip.

“What’s happening here?” A low voice calls from behind you. Relief rushes through you as you can tell without seeing him that it’s Boba.

Yovu looks slowly from Boba back to your face. He doesn’t release you straight away, opting instead to give you one last warning squeeze.

“I just came to see how our newest addition is settling in, that’s all” He says with false sincerity before quickly releasing you. You stumble back, trying to put as much space between you and the zabrak as possible.

Yovu stalks away, acknowledging his employer with a tight-lipped “Fett” and slinking from the armoury. When you’re both sure that Yovu has left, Boba turns to you. Between the blaster in your hand and the look of distress you’re sure is still plastered on your face you reckon Boba easily figures out that there’d been a little bit more than a pleasant chat between you and Yovu.

“Are you alright?” He asks, coming closer to you and offering to take the blaster from you. He moves in a similar way one would act around a spooked animal, but you can’t find it in you to mind all that much. You offer the blaster to him which he takes with one hand and reaches out to you with the other. You’re all too happy to let him rub away the residual pain Yovu left on your arm, and the gentle way he touches you has you practically melting into him.

“Yes, thank you,” You say, truly grateful for his intervention.

“What did he want?” Boba asks, you can tell that behind his visor he’s looking at the opened crate that Yovu had been searching through.

“I’m not sure. He was searching for something I think, and didn’t appreciate me telling him to leave”

Boba hums at your answer. He takes a deep breath, moving his hand from your arm and rest on your lower back to give it a comforting rub. Much to your embarrassment you can’t help but press against him, enjoying the protective stance he’s taken.

“What about you?” You pipe up, breaking Boba’s gaze away from the weapons crate and bringing it down to you. “What did you come here for? I thought you’d be busy preparing to fly to Jagba”

Boba huffs a laugh and breaks away from you. You’re embarrassed at how your body attempts to follow him without thinking but you hold your ground, watching instead as Boba crosses to the open crate and peering inside.

“I came here to see you,” Boba says casually.

“Me?” you parrot, your heartrate spiking suddenly.

“Yes you, little one. I wanted to apologise for cutting our conversation short yesterday.” He closes the crate’s lid and turns back around to you, leaning slightly against the now closed box.

He studies you with measured amusement, you’re sure he can tell how flustered he’s got you right now. You swallow, determined to not make a fool of yourself.

“That’s alright. I saw how important that deal was, you needed to go” you manage.

“But we were also having an important discussion,” He says, but you honestly can’t think about much that was said yesterday other than the way he had touched your leg “and you never answered my question.”

His voice was laced with humour, teasing in a way that seems much too tender for this hardened warrior.

“What question?” You ask through a slight laugh.

“About if you wanted me to teach you to shoot,” He answers, raising the blaster he had taken from you in his hand.

“Oh.” The conversation comes flooding back to you, and you find yourself blushing furiously.

Boba waits for your answer expectantly, but inside your head there’s a conflict of interests gathering momentum. On the one hand the possibility of spending more time with Boba is almost too intoxicating to deny. On the other, the thought of him seeing how pitiful you are with a blaster is more embarrassing than you’d ever care to admit.

“It might take a while to teach me, I’m really not that good” You joke instead of answering.

That doesn’t seem to perturb Boba. With one hand he reaches up and removes his helmet, turning to place it on the closed crate behind him.

“You can’t be that bad”

You huff out a nervous laugh because _you absolutely can be that bad_ and watch as Boba crosses over to you, offering the blaster back. You shoot him an unconvinced look, but the almost tenderly amused way he’s looking back convinces you to accept. You tentatively take the blaster from him.

“Shoot my helmet” He instructs, stepping back to give you a good view of the green beskar.

It’s not that far. Realistically you should be able to hit it, but the nervousness caused by having an audience you so desperately want to impress has your vision practically swimming.

“You could start by lifting your blaster”

You jump a little as Boba’s voice snaps you out of your internal monologue, only to find that he’s come to stand behind you. His arms wrap around you to gently grip your forearms, raising the blaster for you. Your back is pressed firmly against beskar chest, and you’re convinced that even through all that metal he can probably still feel the tremor that runs down your spine.

You readjust your grip on the blaster, aim it as best you can, and pull the trigger.

You shut your eyes to the bright red charge emitted and the force with which the blaster goes off rocks you further back into Boba’s chest. His arm wraps around your waist to steady you and stays there as he lets you come back to yourself. You eventually open your eyes, only to be faced with the sight of Boba’s visor staring back at you, unmoving from its spot atop the crate.

“Huh” Boba says beside your ear “Well, good thing I’ve got time to spare”

You blush wildly with embarrassment at his words. You’d been fighting since the first time you met him not to make a fool of yourself, but despite your best efforts that hasn’t been going according to plan. Now you have to deal with the fact that the best warrior this side of the galaxy knows you are his exact opposite, the single worst shooter in existence.

“When I get back from Jagba I’ll arrange a proper training session. I’ll have you shooting like a pro in no time,” He says, giving your hip a firm squeeze before going to retrieve his helmet.

“Don’t set your standards too high” you say lightly, attempting to joke away your embarrassment “I think I might be a lost cause with a blaster”

Boba pauses at that, huffing out a tiny, amused laugh before fixing his helmet back over his head. He turns to you, swaggering back over and stopping dangerously close to you. You refuse to step back, even as his hand comes up to gently hold your jaw in place.

“I could turn the dullest gungan into the best marksman this galaxy has ever seen if I wanted to. _I’ll make you a good shot,_ Princess. Don’t worry.” His voice is low, dangerous and full of exciting promises that have you utterly intoxicated, if he wasn’t holding your chin so firmly you reckon you would have melted into the floor.

Boba lets you go, and you watch unmovingly as he disappears towards the exit of the armoury leaving you entirely transfixed and far too distracted to think about your work.

So much for knocking this silly infatuation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me about the mando boys over on my tumblr, @lavendersb!


End file.
